


Wrong Again

by Delusionalllamacrusade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Plant Store, Angst, Christmas, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Langst, Romance, Slow Dancing, Snow, Winter, but only kind of angst?, kind of, plant store au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delusionalllamacrusade/pseuds/Delusionalllamacrusade
Summary: Workplace romances are great, right? ...Right? Lance McClain hoped so, because his new coworker, Pigeon, was pretty cute. Oh, sorry- Pidge. What's that short for? Anyways, what's not to like about Lance? Guy knows how to water a flower. Mostly. At least, he gets paid to.





	1. Shut Up and Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nick_sterz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nick_sterz/gifts).



> This is my Voltron Secret Santa gift for Nikki (nikkst3rz)!! It was my pleasure to be able to create this for you, and I hope you'll love reading it just as much as I loved writing it!

* * *

_“We were victims of the night. The chemical, physical kryptonite…”_

The upbeat words floated faintly out onto the back steps of Charter High, where Pidge sat alone, picking at the hem of her dress. Shut Up and Dance. The song they played at every school dance ever. The song that had played, year after year, as Pidge skipped the dance to study in the hopes of getting a Garrison scholarship. Until this year. This year, it was the song that had been playing when she’d come back from the bathroom to find her date kissing another girl. The song that was playing now, while Pidge worked up the courage to go inside and look for her phone. This night couldn’t get any better.

Suddenly, the door behind Pidge clicked, and a boy in a flashy blue suit flew outside, laughing. Before Pidge could get out of the way, he tripped over her dress and went flying down the steps. Pidge shot to her feet before anyone else could step on her, which was a good thing, because a large boy in a bright yellow bowtie suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Lance?”

The boy in yellow hurried down the steps to his friend, and for a moment, Pidge worried he’d trip and go down, too.

“Hunk!” The boy in blue whined, clutching his leg, “I ripped a hole in my suit. My dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Hunk?” Pidge moved to get a better look at the boy’s face as he glanced up from his friend’s bleeding knee.

“Pidge?” Hunk blinked. “You’re… at a dance.”

“You’re at my school,” Pidge noted.

“Oh, yeah!” Hunk gestured to the boy on the ground. “This is Lance. He invited me. I’m his date.”

“Not his date!” Lance scrambled to his feet and smoothed out his tie. “Just two bros going stag together. Lance McClain.”

Lance smiled and held out his hand, and Pidge wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to shake it or high-five it. She opted for a fist-bump, which seemed to work for him.

“Are you okay?” Hunk asked, glancing at the new hole Lance had torn in her dress. “Where’s your wristband?”

“I lost it,” she lied. “I think I’m just going to head home. Can you call Matt for me?”

“Do you need a ride? We can drop you off, or—“

“Or you could come with us,” Lance interjected, “We were just about to try and sneak into Dave and Buster’s. I bet Hunk a hundred tickets I could convince the bouncer I’m twenty three.”

Hunk ignored him. “I’ll give Matt a call. You gonna be okay?”

“I’m good.” Pidge forced a smile.

“If Matt doesn’t show in the next few minutes, go inside, okay? Can’t have the Garrison losing their star student.”

Lance seemed to light up. “She’s dual-enrolled at the Garrison? Dude, that is boss.” Lance turned to Pidge. “Have you met Takashi Shirogane?”

“Uh, I— yeah.”

Lance’s grin broadened.

“Alright, we gotta go. See you Monday, Pidge.” Hunk waved and headed down the steps.

Lance, somehow, was already halfway across the parking lot. He turned around and waved. “Nice to meet you, Pigeon!”

Pidge waved back and sat down. A cool breeze picked up, ruffling Pidge’s hair and sending a few leaves swirling across the ground.

_“This woman is my destiny. She said, ooh…”_

 Shut Up and Dance. The song that played at every school dance ever. The song that played when Pidge met Lance McClain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in this chapter is, of course, Shut Up and Dance, by Walk the Moon.


	2. You Have to Earn It

“Remember, they gave you the job because I said you’re good, so if you’re not good, it’s going to reflect badly on me.” Hunk tapped his fingers together nervously. “So please be good.”

“Hunk, my man. There’s nothing to worry about,” Lance said, “I’ve had, like, a million part time jobs.”

“Yeah, see, and that’s what I’m worried about.”

“I know how to water a flower, Hunk.”

“Just don’t get fired on your first day, okay?”

“You got it.”

Lance stepped into the small shop and was immediately greeted by the smells of earth, sweat, and pollen. Bright pops of color jumped out at him from all around the store, and slow jazz was playing softly on a small radio behind the counter. He loved it. A copper-skinned woman in pink overalls was bent over nearby, trimming a cactus. There was a tall, sturdy-looking man with a prosthetic arm repotting a bonsai tree at the back of the shop, and a familiar figure in a red jacket was carefully watering some hanging plants near the door.

“Keith Kogane?”

The boy in red looked up, puzzled. “Have we met?”

“Lance McClain?”

Keith blinked.

“We were like rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck?”

“We… Wait, I remember you. You signed up for dual-enrollment at the Garrison.”

“Yeah,” Lance started, “And thanks to you—”

“You’re here!” A light, cheerful voice exclaimed, and the woman in pink leapt up to shake Lance’s hand. “You must be Lance McClain. Hunk has told me so much about you.” Her voice sounded affected, like she’d grown up in England. Or maybe New Zealand? Lance couldn’t tell.

“He’s the best,” Hunk called from the counter, where he'd busied himself arranging a bouquet of lilies. “But if he breaks anything, I’ve never met him.”

“I’m Allura,” the woman said, unfazed. “This is Keith. You already know Hunk. And over there is Shiro.”

The man with the prosthetic arm looked up and grinned.

“Welcome to the team, Lance. Let’s get you started.”

* * *

 

“Crap,” Lance muttered, shaking off his hand.

Takashi Shirogane— no, Shiro - Lance was still getting used to calling his all-time idol by a nickname— looked up from the register.

“Technically,” he said, “it’s fertilizer. But you were close.”

“Whoa, Lance,” Hunk moaned, emerging from the back room, “You smell like the wrong end of a dairy farm.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, “I’m trying this new moisturizing routine where I stick my hand in a bucket of poop every morning. It’s great for your skin.”

“It suits you,” Keith called from the back of the store. Lance replied with a sarcastic thumbs-up.

Allura finished with a customer and swooped in, taking over the row of flowers Lance was tending to. “You can wash off in the back, Lance. The bathroom is on the left.”

“Thank you! Allura is my only true friend,” Lance called behind him as he headed into the back room.

The back room was essentially a smaller, messier version of the store. Shelves stacked high with plants, tools, and bags of fertilizer lined the walls. Small particles of dust swirled lazily in a patch of sunlight, which filtered in through a single window.

 _On the left…_ Lance pushed open the bathroom door. He heard a surprised cry and saw the girl from the dance - Pigeon - crouching in the corner with a book. He froze.

“Wha—“

“I’m on break!” she yelped, “Someone out front can help you.”

“I— you’re— Pigeon,” Lance managed.

“I’m… not a pigeon.” She stared at him. “You’re Lance McClain. We’ve met.”

“A plus for observation. Good to see you again, not a pigeon. I’m your new coworker.” He held his hand out.

Not-Pigeon seemed to collect herself as she got to her feet. “Pidge. You- you’ve got a little something there,” she said, her eyes trailing down to his fertilizer-covered hand.

“Oh. Yeah. You’re not into that? It’s how I always introduce myself.”

Her mouth quirked into a smile as she moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you to that. If Allura and Shiro don’t have anything else for you to do, I’m going to need help reorganizing the back room.”

Lance smiled as the door shut behind her. He liked this Pidge.

Lance quickly washed his hands and left the bathroom. He found Pidge sitting on the floor of the back room, surrounded by empty cardboard boxes. She was holding a small plant with tiny blue blossoms, cradling it in both hands.

“Nice box fort. Build that for your flower?”

She looked up. “It’s a hardy geranium. We emptied these boxes last month, but I guess this guy was missed. Pretty cool that he survived.” She set the plant down on the floor. “We can put him in the store later. We have to clean out these shelves.

Lance nodded and took a box off the top shelf. “So, Pidge. Is that short for something?”

“It’s a nickname,” Pidge said offhandedly, brushing the dust off an old vase.

“For what?”

She glanced up at him. “Can’t tell you. You have to earn it.”

“Does Hunk know?”

Pidge laughed. “Yeah, Hunk knows.”

“Hunk!” Lance yelled. Hunk appeared in the doorway almost immediately.

“What? What’s going on? Is there a fire? Lance, I _told_ you not to cause any trouble!”

“Whoa, buddy, calm down. I just want to know Pidge’s real name.”

Hunk blinked. “I can’t tell you. You have to earn it.”

“Seriously?” Lance exclaimed as Pidge snickered next to him. Hunk shrugged and returned to the register, the sound of the storefront floating into the back room as the door swung shut. Lance turned back to Pidge. “This is, like, an actual thing?”

Pidge trained her face into a neutral expression. “It’s a thing.”

“Alright. I’m down for a challenge. It’s short for… Piglet?”

“Yeah, my name’s Piglet. Nice to meet you.”

“It wasn’t a bad guess!” Lance laughed as Pidge shook her head. “Okay, okay. Give me a hint. Tell me about yourself. I need to know more about you before I can make any guesses.”

Pidge smiled. She told him about being dual-enrolled at the Garrison, how she was going to be enrolled there full-time the next year. She talked about her knack for technology, and how she was good with plants, and how Allura and Shiro had given her a job after she’d spent every afternoon in the shop for three weeks.

Two hours and eight shelves later, Pidge ran out of things to talk about. She and Lance sat next to a stack of empty boxes, Lance tracing abstract shapes in the dusty floor. Pidge slumped against the pile and stretched her arms.

“The store closes in ten minutes,” she remarked. “We have to take these boxes out to the dumpster.”

“We could do that,” Lance countered, “Or we could speed-build the best box fort in human history.”

Pidge grinned.

Ten minutes later, a bewildered Allura entered the back room to find two teenagers giggling inside a large cardboard castle.


	3. An Early Christmas Gift

* * *

“Oh… oh, no…” Pidge looked up from the geranium she was placing in the window as Lance hopped out of a muddy puddle on the floor. “Uh… I need… paper towels.”

Pidge tried not to laugh as Lance hopped into the back room on his less-muddy foot. Moments later, he reemerged with a roll of paper towels and began mopping up the mess he’d made.

“Round one goes to the hanging plants,” Pidge joked as they continued to drip onto the floor. Lance looked up just as a drop splattered onto his head.

“In my defense”—Lance flicked a droplet off his forehead—“Nobody ever told me how much water to give them.”

Pidge laughed. Lance had been working at the nursery for about two months now, and although he’d learned fast, he still struggled with the hanging plants. This kind of flooding wasn’t uncommon.

Allura emerged from the back room with an armful of pre-cut bouquets. She clicked on the radio as she walked past, and it sprang to life with the quiet chiming of bells.

_“I don’t want a lot for Christmas…”_

Pidge and Lance sprung to their feet simultaneously.

“Allura, turn that off!” Pidge demanded. Allura reached for the dial. Lance dramatically pointed a finger at her.

“Allura, do not touch that dial!”

“What—“

“It’s not even December yet!” Pidge protested.

“You’re just not in the Christmas spirit,” Lance said. “We’ll fix that.”

He leapt over to the counter and picked up a small spade just as the telltale drums boomed up from the radio.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need!” Lance sang loudly, and badly, into the spade. Pidge burst out laughing as Lance yelled over the music, “Mariah Carey is the queen of Christmas! —Underneath the Christmas tree—“

He began dancing around the shop, dueting with the plants. Pidge jumped when he vaulted over a table to harmonize with Hunk. They stood back to back and leaned into the makeshift microphone, singing at the top of their lungs. It was awful, and Pidge loved it.

As the song drew to a close, Lance sunk to one knee in a dramatic bow. Hunk gave him a standing ovation, applauding loudly and cheering. Pidge shook her head.

“That definitely was… something,” she conceded. Lance looked up at her and grinned. “But it’s still not December. Ergo, not Christmas.”

“Come on! After all that?”

Pidge held her hands up innocently. “I don’t make the rules.”

Lance pushed himself up onto the counter. “Exactly. It’s Christmas.”

Pidge jokingly rolled her eyes and picked up her bag. “We can finish this tomorrow. Ready to go, Allura?”

“Almost. I just need to grab one thing.” And with that, Allura disappeared into the back room, leaving only Hunk, Lance, and Pidge in the store. Hunk turned away and pretended to be very interested in a row bonsai trees.

“Alright,” Lance went on, “so Christmas isn’t doing it for you. What kind of music do you actually like? What’s the song that would tell me the most about Pigeonite—“

“Nope.”

“—Gunderson?”

Pidge paused. She’d never really thought about it before. Luckily, she didn’t have to, because Lance took over the conversation again.

“Mine, personally, would be “Introducing Me” from Camp Rock 2.”

Pidge blinked. “What?”

“I just feel like I can relate to it.”

She kept a straight face, but amusement bubbled in Pidge’s chest. “Why?”

“I, too, like checks with lots of zeros.”

Pidge burst out laughing again. Lance smiled, eyes bright with satisfaction. He waited until her laughter died down, and then he cleared his throat.

“So, uh… I’m off work tonight,” he said.

“Me too,” Pidge replied.

“Do you, uh—“ Lance looked out the window, refusing to meet her eyes. “Do you want to grab dinner?” he mumbled.

Pidge looked at him. “What?”

“Do-you-want-to-grab-dinner,” Lance mumbled again, louder this time.

“Sorry, I can’t— could you say that again?”

Lance’s ears were turning redder by the second. “Do you want to grab—“ he stopped, noticing the glint in Pidge’s eyes. “How many times were you going to make me say that?” he demanded.

“As many as possible,” Pidge giggled. Allura returned, holding her purse and a small box. “That little cafe down the street. I’ll meet you there!” Pidge called to Lance as she followed Allura out of the store.

* * *

 

Pidge settled into the passenger seat of Alllura’s car. “Thanks for giving me a ride. Matt had this big roleplaying tournament, or something.”

“Of course, Pidge. I’m happy to,” Allura said, but something in her voice sounded off. Pidge studied her face as she pulled out of the parking lot. Her eyebrows were furrowed; there was a worried look in her eyes.

“Allura? Is everything okay?”

Allura dodged the question. “That’s for you,” she said, nodding toward the tiny box she’d set on the dashboard. “Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”

Pidge reached for the box and cracked it open. Inside was a small green gem set on a delicate gold chain. Pidge lifted the necklace out of the box and held it up, turning it so the light glittered on the surface of the stone. Pidge’s breath caught. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Allura!”

Allura smiled. Pidge carefully set the necklace back in the box. They rode in silence for a few minutes, then Allura finally said, “I’m worried about you, Pidge.”

Pidge looked up. “What? Why? I’m fine. I mean, a little sleep-deprived, but what can you do, right?”

“I’m worried about you and Lance,” Allura continued. “You’re both so young. Of course I want you to be happy, but you must consider—“

“Wait.” Pidge stared down at the necklace in her lap. “This isn’t an early Christmas present.” Allura bit her lip as Pidge stared at her accusingly. “This is a bribe!”

“No, Pidge, it’s—“ Allura faltered. “Please, just listen—“

“You think just because you gave me some necklace means you get to tell me what to do?”

“Pidge, listen!” Allura ordered. Pidge fell silent. “I care very much about you, and I care very much about Lance. But you’re going to the Garrison next year. You worked so hard to get in, and we’re all very proud of you, but… You’ll be so far away.” Allura took a deep breath. “Lance didn’t get in. He’s staying here.”

Pidge was quiet as they turned into her driveway.

* * *

 

A warm, candlelit glow filled the windows of a small cafe. Music drifted softly out of the open door. And inside, sitting alone at a table for two, was a dark-haired boy in a blue sweater. He turned the waiter away once more.

_I’m sure she’ll be here soon._

She wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mariah Carey is, of course, the queen of Christmas. The song in this chapter is All I Want for Christmas, by her.  
> Subtle wingman Hunk is a good Hunk.


	4. Talking. That's progress, right?

* * *

Lance wiped a smear of dirt off his forehead and looked over to where Pidge was ringing up a customer. For a split second, she seemed to be looking at him. But just as quickly as it had happened, Pidge turned her attention back to the cash register. Lance sighed. It had been a month since she’d started freezing him out, and he’d had no success in getting back on her good side. He didn’t even know what he’d done. That was the most frustrating part.

Lance made his way behind the counter as the last few customers left the store, letting the icy breeze blow in a flurry of snow. He picked up a watering can and began tending to the small blue flowers that still sat in the windowsill. Lance wasn’t sure if they were supposed to last through the winter, but they’d already started wilting sadly in the cold. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“So, uh… Any plans for tomorrow?”

Pidge fidgeted with that necklace she always wore - a green gem on a gold chain. “No.”

“I just meant, because it’s Christmas, and… Yeah, okay. I mean, you’re opening presents, right?”

“I… yeah. I am,” Pidge said. She busied herself organizing a stack of cellophane rolls that Lance was pretty sure didn’t need organizing.

“That’s cool. My little siblings are going crazy. They’re not huge on waiting.” Lance laughed awkwardly. Pidge didn’t answer.

“It’s, uh…” Lance tried again. “Is it Pygmalion?” Pidge paused, her back to him. “Your name, I mean. Pidge. Short for… Pygmalion?”

Pidge exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. Lance’s heart sank.

“Hey, are we, like…” he faltered. _Cool? Friends?_ Lance wasn’t sure they were either of those anymore.

“Just… Leave me alone.” Pidge’s voice hardened as she turned away from the counter. Lance took a step back. This wasn’t fair.

“Hey!” Lance reached out as Pidge tried to shove past him. He grabbed her and she froze, his hands clutching her arms. His voice softened, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers. “What’s this all about?”

She stared up at him defiantly, but the fire in her eyes seemed to slowly die as they stood there, unmoving, eyes locked. She sighed, and for just a moment, she seemed... defeated. Against his own will, Lance’s eyes trailed down to her lips. He leaned down, and her head tilted up, just barely, as he rested his forehead against hers. Cold air slid across the glass doors, but Pidge was warm in his arms as the snow fell outside. They were close. So close he could feel her breath, warm against his face.

Then Pidge inhaled sharply. She pulled back and planted her hands on his chest, shoving him away.

“No. No. We’re not doing this. That’s bad.”

Lance shrugged. “I mean… It’s not _so_ bad.”

“Allura’s going to kill me, and then you, and then me again.”

Pidge grabbed her bag and began gathering her things, hustling around the small shop. Lance watched, oddly cold without her body heat.

“Pidge, it’s not so bad. Nothing even happened.”

“I have to go.” Pidge tried to push past Lance to the door. He wrapped an arm around her waist and spun her back into the store.

“You’re supposed to be closing!”

“Then you have to go.” She freed herself from his grip and made her way back to the counter, determinedly not looking at him.

Lance stared at her. Had he fallen asleep and imagined the past few seconds? No, they had definitely almost kissed. There’s no way his face would feel this warm if they hadn’t. Pidge, on the other hand, seemed as cold as ever as she hid her face under her scarf.

She looked at him. “You’re off the clock. You can go.”

Pretending not to hear her, Lance busied himself watering a bouquet of roses in the stand near the door. She was talking to him, at least. That was progress.

“Lance.”

The petals were wilting; they needed some care.

“Lance.”

The pitcher was empty. Lance moved to the sink.

“Lance, they’re pre-cut flowers. We’re throwing them out in the morning.” Pidge sighed. “You can go home. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, but Lance could tell now that arguing with her would only make things worse. Putting down the pitcher, he turned to the door and pushed it open. That is, he _tried_ to push it open. The door didn’t budge. Was it a pull door?

He pushed again. The frame rattled stubbornly.

Pidge looked up from the money she was counting and stared at him.

Lance shoved again. “It won’t open.”

“It’s a push door.”

“I know.” Lance looked down. Several feet of snow were piled up against the door, and the storm outside didn’t appear to be quitting anytime soon. “We’re snowed in.”

Pidge nearly tripped as she launched herself away from the counter and marched over to the door.

“No, no, no. Are you kidding me?” Pidge groaned as she pounded on the glass. “As if this wasn’t already the best day ever, now you’re going to snow us in? Really?!”

Lance shifted uncomfortably. “Who are you talking to?”

“Whoever is in charge of the weather!”

“It could be worse. At least you’re not alone.”

Pidge pinched the bridge of her nose. “We can go out the window.”

“Uh, actually,” Lance ventured, “that’s probably a bad idea. We’re not allowed outside until the storm passes.” He held up his phone and smiled sheepishly. “Emergency alert. Guess you’re stuck with me.”


	5. Dance with Me, Pigeot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in this chapter is Lay Me Down by Sam Smith, and I'd seriously recommend listening to it when you get to that part of the chapter if you enjoy shippy feels. Or not, if that's not something you're into. I can't tell you what to do. Fun fact, this is actually the first chapter I wrote.

* * *

“What’s your problem with me, anyways?”

Pidge was curled up on the floor, wrapped in a frost blanket. Lance didn’t seem cold at all as he stretched out on the counter, tossing around a bouncy ball he’d found on the floor. Pidge’s fingers absently trailed across the surface of her necklace. It had been hours since the emergency alert, and the storm still showed no sign of stopping.

“What?”

“I mean,” Lance continued, “One day we were hanging out, arguing over Christmas music, and now we’re… not hanging out. Arguing over everything. What’s up with that?”

“Nothing’s up.” Pidge hoped she sounded casual. “I like you just as much as Hunk does.”

“Nobody likes me as much as Hunk.” Lance’s ball bounced off the ceiling. “You hate me. What’s up with that? Am I not totally and irresistibly charming?” Lance gave her a cheesy grin. Pidge rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide a small smile.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just…” Pidge hesitated. She picked uncomfortably at the corner of her blanket. “You know when you were little and you’d bring home a stray dog, and your parents told you that you weren’t allowed to give it a name because you had to take it back to the shelter the next day?”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have rabies, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Pidge swatted at him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Your parents aren’t huge dog people then, huh?”

“That was actually a pretty bad example,” Pidge admitted. “My brother is really good at convincing my parents to let him do whatever he wants. That’s how we got Bae Bae.”

“Your family sounds pretty cool,” Lance said. He tossed the bouncy ball into the air and caught it, inches above Pidge’s head.

Pidge snorted. “You should meet them.”

Lance missed a beat; the little ball bounced off his chest and went flying across the shop. Pidge’s ears suddenly burned, and she was glad to have the frost blanket covering most of her probably-red face.

“I didn’t mean—” Pidge tried to recover as Lance sat up and stared at her, “I just, I just meant that, you know, my family is— they’re not as cool when you meet them! I didn’t mean I want you to meet— Look, I wasn’t trying to— I mean, they’re cool, they’re just not _cool_. Just— shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance held up his hands defensively.

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.” Lance seemed to relax as he laid back down. It was quiet for a moment, and then he muttered, “Maybe okay can be our always.”

“What?”

“It’s— you’ve never read _The Fault in our Stars_? Man, where do you live? Under a rock?”

“Yes, Lance. I live under a rock.”

“It was— never mind.”

Silence. Lance drummed his fingers against his chest.

“So… Are we just going to pretend the almost kissing thing didn’t happen, or—?” Lance was cut off as he dodged a pair of gardening gloves. “Pretending the almost kissing thing didn’t happen. Got it.”

They spent the next few minutes in silence, which Pidge figured wasn’t the worst thing. Of course, it didn’t last long. The quiet was shattered when Lance started whistling “White Christmas”. It wasn’t that it annoyed her, exactly - the song was nice, and Lance had pretty good pitch. It was kind of cute, the way he shut his eyes when he hit the high notes and tilted his chin down on the low notes.

Oh, no. Pidge stood up. “Let’s see what’s on the radio.”

“Yeah!”

“The ones that aren’t playing Christmas music,” she decided, just to spite him.

Lance frowned at her with an exaggerated pout, but perked up again once he heard the song that came on.

 _“Yes, I do. I believe that one day I will be where I was. Right there, right next to you…”_ The soft words floated up from the radio, and to Pidge’s surprise, Lance stood up and began dancing. He waltzed around the shop, holding a broom as if it were his dance partner. He was surprisingly graceful. Pidge giggled as he danced closer to her. She’d almost forgotten how much she enjoyed his company.

He swept the broom into a low dip and held out his hand. “Dance with me, Pidgeot.”

“Wrong again.”

“Really? I thought for sure it was Pidgeot.”

“Nope.”

“Well.” Lance straightened and leaned against the wall. “I’m all out of guesses. Dance with me?”

Pidge tilted her head to look up at him. “I don’t dance with people who don’t know my name.”

“Pidge. It’s one in the morning. It’s snowing. The perfect song just came on. We’re the only two people here, and by the way, how lucky are we that we’re both trapped in here with someone as gorgeous as us?”

“I think that’s the biggest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“Come on. Dance with me.” Lance held out his hand again, and for the first time, he seemed… gentle. That same spark was still in his eyes, but there was also a softness in them that Pidge wasn’t sure she’d seen before.

_“Can I lay by your side? Next to you…”_

Lance grinned as Pidge gave in and took his hand. He spun her gently and wrapped an arm around her waist.

The chill in the room seemed to melt away as the space between them grew warmer. Pidge tried awkwardly to keep time, careful not to step on Lance’s feet. He smiled down at her, and the light from the street lamps outside caught his eyes perfectly. They sparkled golden in the dark shop. Pidge felt her cheeks grow warm and turned to hide her face as they swayed to the music. Lance laughed and turned her around to lean against him.

“Allura can kill me if she wants,” he murmured. “It’s worth it.”

“That’s more romantic than any of your pickup lines.”

He spun her around to face him again, holding her closer as the radio continued to sing. Pidge could feel Lance’s heartbeat against her chest, steady and safe. She let herself relax and gave in to the music, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. His thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand. Pidge’s heart skipped a beat when she felt him lean down and place a kiss on the top of her head.

_“The feeling’s overwhelming, it’s much too strong…”_

“Can I lay by your side?” Lance sang softly into Pidge’s ear. The words were smooth and sweet, and Pidge realized she’d never really heard him sing before. His rendition of “All I Want for Christmas” had been awful, but this was different. There was no show here. Lance wasn’t hitting all the wrong notes to be funny.

“I’ll take care of you…”

His voice was soft and real, and scratched a little on the the lower notes. Pidge smiled as Lance started humming the words he didn’t know.

It was perfect. The music, the glow of the streetlights outside, the glittering blanket of snow piled up against the door. The slow sway to the music, that was everything Pidge had wanted all those years she skipped the school dance. And Lance. The brush of his lips against her hair, the warmth of his breath against her neck, the beat of his heart perfectly in time with hers. She wouldn’t have traded the moment for the world, and right then, that moment was her world.

Then Lance pulled away. Pidge looked up, suddenly aware of the cold air between them. His hand lingered on her waist, but there was something uneasy in his eyes.

“This isn’t fair. I’m sorry, Pidge.”

Pidge’s heart sank as Lance pulled his hand away.

“Sorry for what? What are you talking about?”

“For _this_.” Lance shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the ground, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t get why you don’t like me, but… if you have some reason we shouldn’t do this, then we shouldn’t do it.”

Pidge searched Lance’s eyes for the sweet, sarcastic boy she’d been dancing with moments earlier. All she found was a sad hardness that told her he’d made up his mind. Pidge felt numb.

“I am so sick of everyone telling me what I can and can’t do,” she whispered.

Lance finally looked at her. “No. No, that’s not what I mean. I just—“

“No, I get it,” Pidge interrupted, “this is all wrong. You don’t like me anymore, because I ignored you, or because you like someone else, or a million other stupid reasons. I get it.”

“No, you don’t! I’m not doing this because I don’t like you, Pidge. Are you seriously that insecure?”

That stung. Tears prickled in Pidge’s eyes.

“I’m insecure? We all know you wanted to get into the Garrison. Is this really about me? Or are you just jealous that I got into the Garrison and you didn’t?”

Pidge had crossed a line, and she knew it. But she didn’t care. She took a breath. “Maybe you’re just upset that I got in because it means you failed.”

Lance didn’t say a word. Pidge stood her ground, clenching her jaw to keep her lip from trembling. Their eyes remained locked, Pidge searching for some sign that Lance was wrong, that he would crack that cocky smile and forget the last few moments had ever happened. Instead, he marched over to the window, thrust it open, and stepped over the sill. And in a matter of seconds, Lance McClain was lost to the swirling storm outside.


	6. Blizzard

* * *

Pidge huddled under the counter, sheltered from the snow blowing in through the open window. The radio droned on in the background. Lance would come back any minute. In the meantime, Pidge had plenty of time alone with her thoughts.

Lance was right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he was allowed to spend months making her smile, making her laugh, and she wasn’t allowed to like him back. It wasn’t fair that finally, when she allowed herself to let go for once, to like him, to dance with him, he pushed her away. He left.

Pidge looked up at the wilting geranium in the window. As she watched, a petal fell off, floating sadly to the floor. _You did the same thing,_ a small voice inside her said.  _You let him like you, and then you pushed him away._ Pidge pushed the voice down. This was different. Tonight had been Lance’s fault. He was the one who left.

A gust of wind blew in through the window, sending a shiver down Pidge’s spine. She began to grow anxious. Lance had been gone for nearly half an hour. What if something had happened to him?

Pidge forced the thought out of her head. He was fine. He’d probably walked home. He was probably sitting in front of a fire, drinking hot chocolate.

A familiar sound drifted up from the radio. Pidge froze.

_“I said, ‘You’re holding back.’ She said, ‘Shut up and dance with me.’ This woman is my destiny…”_

Pidge buried her face in her arms, blinking away the hot tears that threatened to spill onto her face. This was her fault. She was the one who had pushed Lance away, and now he was outside in a blizzard, alone. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and stood up. Pidge took a moment to steel herself, fists clenched, and took in a deep breath. Then she marched to the window and stepped over the sill.

* * *

 

“Lance?” Pidge called as she pressed through the storm, eyes watering against the icy sheets of wind that ripped at her clothes and hair. “Lance!” She didn’t know where she was going, but she doubted it would have mattered if she did, since she couldn’t see more than three feet in front of her. She held a hand to her face as an especially violent flurry of snow tore through the air.

“Lance!” Pidge called again, growing more desperate by the second. She shivered against the cold, and for a moment she wondered if she should go back to the store and call the police. She turned, unsure which way to go, and her foot hit a patch of ice. Pidge fell, landing hard on her elbow. She placed her hands on the ground, bare fingers numb against the snow, and pushed herself up.

_Snap!_

Pidge’s hands flew to her collarbone. Allura’s necklace was gone. She fell back to her knees, ignoring the frigid wetness that chilled her to the bone as she searched through the snowbank, but she knew it was no good. The snow was too high, it was too cold, and she couldn’t stay out for much longer unless she wanted to catch pneumonia. Pidge stood and turned in a circle, searching for any sign of where she was or where she needed to go. All she saw was the swirling, white storm.

“Pidge!”

Pidge turned around. Someone had called her name. She listened, frozen on the spot, afraid to make any noise. She heard nothing. Had she imagined it?

“Pidge!” the voice called again, and this time she ran toward it, stumbling over the chunks of snow that littered the road.

“Lance?” she called as the wind whipped across her face. “Lance!”

Pidge slipped on a sheet of ice. She braced herself as the pavement rose up toward her, but the impact never came. She looked up. Lance McClain was gripping her arms, holding her tightly against the storm. He pulled her into an alley, out of the way of the howling wind and snow.

“What are you doing out here? Pidge, that was so stupid!”

“What am I doing?” Anger boiled in Pidge’s chest. “You left! You could’ve died!”

Lance looked at the ground. “I know. That was dumb.”

Pidge looked at Lance, standing in the middle of this storm because of her, and her anger subsided. It was quickly replaced by guilt, and an overwhelming need to be near him. She stepped forward and launched into a tight hug, embracing him as though she’d never let go. His hands went to her back and he returned the embrace, his face buried in her scarf. They stayed there in the snow, sharing heat, for longer than Pidge could tell.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally forced out, voice hoarse. “I was awful, and you didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

Lance only gripped her tighter. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Pidge pulled away, looking up at Lance as the storm swirled around them. “You don’t get to apologize,” she said. His eyes dropped to the ground.

“I know what Allura told you,” he confessed. Pidge froze, searching for the right words, and found that she could no longer look Lance in the eye. Of course he knew. Allura would’ve told him the same thing she’d told Pidge. Lance continued, “I guess… I just liked you too much.”

Pidge’s heart seemed to stop. She looked up.

“But… I never knew if you liked me,” he said.

Lance was looking down at her, and she realized he was waiting for her answer. She let out a nervous laugh.

“Gee, Lance. Why do you think it was so hard for me?”

Lance’s whole body seemed to sag with relief. Allura had been right, of course. Pidge knew that. She looked up into Lance’s stupid, beautiful eyes and watched as he ran an embarrassed hand through his ridiculous, silky hair. And as a small smile played across his face, her eyes dropped down to his dumb, soft lips - his lips that were suddenly on hers, and Pidge let out a surprised squeak, and his hand ran gently through her hair, and his mouth was cold against hers, but inside she was as warm as she had ever been.

“Katie,” Pidge murmured through his lips. “My real name is Katie.”

Lance laughed softly, resting his forehead against hers. “That’s not even close to Pidge.”

“I told you, it’s a nickname,” she said. She tilted her chin up again, oblivious to the storm churning all around. Pidge had her arms around Lance’s neck, and for one blissful moment, as the snow whipped through her hair, everything felt right. All her worry about the next year, about the Garrison, fell away. Pidge didn’t care. They would figure it out later.


End file.
